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Friday, April 11, 2014

Our Wonderful World.11

Stand Up Straight
Okay, Mom.
I get it now.
All those
"Stand
up
straight!"s
were your way
of saying,
"Be proud!"
"Be confident!"
"Be yourself!"

I wish
I had listened.
I'd like to
go back
and tell my
teen self
those very same
things.

And now,
as I watch
you bend
and shrink
with age,
my own
"Stand up straight!"s
take on
new urgency,
as does
my own reminder to
"Listen to your mother"
so I can soak up
every story.
every bit of wisdom
before it's too late.

I am enjoying the company of Carol, at Carol's Corner, and Kevin, at Kevin's Meandering Mind. It would be awfully lonely without them, because between the day job and the daily poem, there isn't much time left over to go visiting all the other Poetry Month projects.

I'll make time tomorrow to make an exception. First I'll add a line to the Progressive Poem, then I'll read around the roundup and get a taste of all the poetic goodies.

This is bittersweet, Mary Lee, as my mom is going through such health challenges right now. When I use an image or a thing for inspiration, sometimes I like to write about it, and other times I just like to see how it connects to the rest of my life, as you did here. Lovely!

Every day I am totally surprised at the directions your poems take. This one is beautiful. And poignant. And heartbreaking…

"Edgewalk"

Why would I choose to walk1,168 feet above the groundway up thereway out thereat the CN Tower?

I already walk the edge.

I walk the edgeevery timeI walk into a barbershopwith my two littlenappy haired guys.Conversations stopas every person in the shoplooks at me.And I feel so white.

I walk the edgeevery timeI walk through a mallwith my African American princes.Security guardsfollow the boysall the waydown the mall.And I feel so white.

I walk the edgeEvery time I climb the bleachersat my son's basketball games.Nine black boyswith their families.And me with my sons.They call me "Miss Carol"for the first five years.And I feel so white.

I walk the edgewhen I try to explainto my fifteen-year-oldwhy he got a $68 ticketfor riding his bike through a stop sign in our quiet urban neighborhoodon the way too football practice."Kids do it all the time," he says.I know he is right.And I feel so white.

I walk the edgewhen I explain to my boyshow they should behaveif they are stopped by the police.Or if they are in the presenceof young and beautiful white women.Act like a gentleman.Don't give anyone reason to doubt your intentions.Leave if there are any problems.Or if you hear anything about guns. I know the conversations would be differentif my boys looked different.And I feel so white.

Why would I choose to walk1,168 feet above the groundway up thereway out thereat the CN Tower?

An amazing poem, Mary Lee! I'm sure we all would like to tell our teenage selves a thing or two. I love the final lines "...so I can soak up/every story./every bit of wisdom/before it's too late." The thought of there being no one left to ask brings me to tears.

I love how you let the 'wonders' bring other things to mind. That is a good hint when working with any prompt, I think. Your poem, besides being beautiful and a little sad, makes a tall and skinny shape on the page. Nice!

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About Us

Franki and Mary Lee are both teachers, and have been for more than 20 years.

Franki is a third grade teacher. She is also the author of Beyond Leveled Books (Stenhouse), Still Learning to Read (Stenhouse), Day-to-Day Assessment in the Reading Workshop (Scholastic) and The Joy of Planning (Choice Literacy). She is also a regular contributor to Choice Literacy.

Mary Lee is a fifth grade teacher. She is also the author of Reconsidering Read-Aloud (Stenhouse) and has poems in the Poetry Friday Anthology, the Poetry Friday Anthology for Middle School, and the Poetry Friday Anthology for Science (Pomelo Books).